


Second Serving

by PacketofRedApples



Series: Ownership [2]
Category: Alan Wake (Video Game)
Genre: Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Bondage, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Mr. Scratch wants to repeat the previous night, but this time with a twist.
Relationships: Mr. Scratch/Alan Wake, TAKEN/Alan Wake
Series: Ownership [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636972
Kudos: 22





	Second Serving

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't originally going to publish it, but then I figured screw it -- I'm going to hell regardless.   
> I had this idea forever ago, but only now wrote it given that I figured out a way I'd like to execute it... while it isn't clever, the context I gave it makes me feel like it is good enough.

Running through the desert, past the oil rig and back to the car, they appear again. However, this herd of TAKEN are unequipped with rusty yet still dangerous sickles, axes or anything of the like. Later, upon recalling this fact Alan realizes that it should have been quite the red flag and he ought to have known he was being ‘summoned’ if you could call it that. Maybe with that realization he would have fought through the soreness and exhaustion, and managed to escape—but now that was moot. Regardless, there were too many of them. All of them coming from every direction, overpowering Alan after last night’s disaster to get the keys, left the writer carried to the motel.

Alan kicked, punched, jerked away and pushed, but despite all that he still couldn’t get away from the iron grasp of the TAKEN sent to collect him. Yet, he didn’t let up, instead choosing to curse and yell the entire time as well.

In one of the motel rooms, same as last night, the dozen TAKEN left that were dragging him along, threw him through the door of it.

Inside it was dark, but thanks to the moonlight Wake could see the figure sitting on the bed, playing with some rope.

“Ah good, Al’, you’re finally here. Took you long enough.” The herald spoke, smiling and looking Alan over who collapsed on the ground, and now was glaring up at the double.

“Yeah, sorry—I didn’t want to come.” The writer spits back, trying to stand but the TAKEN behind him push him back down to his knees. Regardless, it appears Wake’s sarcasm managed to make Mr. Scratch laugh, at least somewhat.

“That’s great, buddy.” Mr. Scratch stands up, then, stretching as if he waited a long while.

“Fail to see how.” That came more like a mumble from Alan, really.

“Because last night I could have sworn you could have said the same—but don’t worry. Tonight, you’ll come, too.” The doppelganger, laughing again, pats the writer on the cheek lightly, and steps away from the bed slightly.

The realization washes over the champion like a tidal wave in a storm. He’s left uncomfortable, glaring angrily at the reminder. Regardless, he’s annoyed at being summoned for a lazy repeat of the previous events… Of course, Scratch never was creative, but he was determined. His plans had many flaws, this would be no different. Wake decides he can’t be hurt too much by this anymore. Even if he’ll be exhausted, he won’t give the satisfaction of humiliation and surprise anymore. That should remove the enjoyment the other would get, right? Oh, if only it was a lazy repeat.

Mr. Scratch, motions to the bed, and Alan furrows his brows, unsure why he’s ordering the TAKEN to help him with this. Usually, he prided himself in being able to handle the writer solo, one on one and all that jazz. This was highly unusual.

Soon after, the writer was flung onto the bed, and then pressed down on it by two rough-looking biker TAKEN. Another, smaller and scrawnier one approaches and seemingly was already instructed what to do, as he begins to take off Alan’s pants. Kicking once more and generally not making it easy, Wake attempts to protest, but the shadowy figure manages to discard the piece of clothing with barely an effort. Two more TAKEN stepped up to hold his legs down, while then he moves forward, closer to Alan’s face and takes his t-shirt, hooking it over the back of his head. Alan, confused, tries to fight it back, but at least then Mr. Scratch appears among the crowd and Wake is not sure why his double feels like the safest thing in the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Wake growls at the herald, who, smirking, moves with his ropes and with the help of his little underlings ties one of Alan’s legs bent. They afterward move to the other side and do the same. It is only then that Alan’s legs are released. “You can’t do this!” Alan continues on but is ignored, as they afterward move to his arms, forcing them behind his back and tying them like that. The restrains were tightly bound him, hurting him by digging into his skin. He hisses, annoyed, but realizes how pathetically vulnerable he is now. “Just… let go of me! Scratch! You can’t do this. You’re going to get bored repeating the same thing and you know it.”

“Oh no, this time it’s going to be different – to keep you and me interested.”

That’s the last exchange they have when Alan is turned back to lay on his back before Scratch gags him by forcing a napkin into Alan’s mouth followed by tying it down there with a tie. Something, that was possibly from the early incarnation of this three-piece outfit.

Leaving Alan absolutely powerless, Mr. Scratch seems oddly chipper. Well, not oddly, but extremely so. More so than Alan has ever witnessed him before, at least.

With all that out of the way, it seemed that all Scratch had left to do was get rid of the TAKEN and have his fun. However, once he proceeded to get on the bed, positioning himself behind the writer, specifically cradling his head, he looks up at the herd of around a dozen, proudly.

“Okay, have fun, boys.” Comes from the herald and Alan panics and despite his looking around it appears the public humiliation was not what he wanted to pull here.

A few TAKEN climb onto the bed and begin grabbing onto Wake, cold hands, limbs, incredibly icy flesh. It becomes obvious that despite the cool air around the Herald, this was incomparable. It kept biting into his skin, soon leaving the champion of light quivering with shut eyes from that alone. Discomfort, that is. He’s too busy trying to push away, in whatever way he might, obviously with immense failure, but in the end—he opens his eyes wide once one of the TAKEN enters him. It’s the scrawny one, small, sure, but the coolness of his member inside Alan makes his spine attempt to coil, the body itself tenses up. But to his surprise, the Herald’s hand on his cheek begins to stroke him as he begins to cry without realizing it.

It hurt, a lot, and soon the pair of large hands on the writer’s own member doesn’t help. They stroke clumsily, roughly. Alan shakes, soon. But due to last night’s events, he doesn’t come quite as fast as last time. It takes more motion, from the two of the monsters, before Alan muffled yells out.

Soon, the white strings shoot out on Alan’s stomach, and he’s ready to just die of shame. Sink through the floor and all that.

“That’s a good boy.” Scratch chimes, before roughly taking his face so that Alan is forced to somewhat open his eyes. “Now keep looking at me, or else it won’t stop. As you can see, we’ve got a lot of willing participants.”

Willing, of course, was a stretch, but Alan attempts to listen if it really means it’ll end.

To no luck, despite efforts, Alan screws his eyes shut again, once he feels a larger one enter him after the first one is done. A different one, as it appears. It’s painful, now more so than before. God, he almost wishes it was just Scratch here, instead. But catching himself in his thought, he grows angry and tries to force his eyes open. Once doing so, he can see as the Herald, smiles down at him, seemingly disinterested in the actions of others and only curious about the writer’s own experience.

The thrust from the other TAKEN are also rough, but they go deep, filling up Alan easily. Soon he’s found, that he can’t help but breathe heavily, trying to repress not only the pain but the sick pleasure. Trying not to arrive at a conclusion too quickly. Not because it’ll prolong this, god, no – he hopes not. But because he hopes it’ll pass quicker. But due to this, he can’t help the muffled groans coming out of himself.

Alan whines out, losing track of when there’s another attempting to press into him, hands on his own dick not letting up still. He’s scared he’ll bleed if this carries on. And it was freezing.

They keep this going, however, till Alan feels something fill him up, something almost warm, and he’s disgusted by it and the way it riles up in his stomach, but upon pulling out, instantly another one presses in, not exceptional in size, but… once they start moving Alan cries out—arriving at the climax again.

How the hell was the guy that was jerking him off still going…?

“I knew you’d enjoy it.” Scratch says, now averting his eyes to the actions on display. “Just keep riding it out and we’ll be done before you know it. Just tell me what you want – and they’ll let it happen.”

Alan frowns, glaring at his mirror image. Surely angry, but so fogged up in his head, he can’t even think straight.

Especially, with the pressure of the constant slamming into him. It didn’t actually feel that good, it didn’t—but… it almost did. Brushing just almost at the right spot. Almost. No adjustments were done, by any of the TAKEN; they just kept up the rhythm till they came. This repeats and repeats for a few more shadowy beings. Till Alan is tired from all the tensing, till he can’t help but feel full inside from all that liquid… until Wake has arrived at the climax for the third time that night. Then all his dignity leaves him. Not in the sense that he gives in and enjoys this, but in the sense that, Alan begins to try to beg. Sure, they can’t really make out what he’s saying due to the gag, but he tries.

“Please, stop.” Comes out choked and obscured, barely understandable but Mr. Scratch looks back at him. Seemingly knowing.

“We can just move on to the last act of this, if you want to, now… What do you say?”

And Alan almost cries, hoping the last act is for real and he nods. Sure to take another TAKEN, after the line of four or five he just had. His body aches from the position, too, he just wants it over. Scratch takes this in strides, grinning before moving off the bed, leaving Alan lying back, so Wake raised his head to watch which puts more strain on his body. He soon falls back, trying to conserve his last bit of energy, but all he saw was Scratch removing his jacket.

After a couple of minutes of panting on Alan’s behalf, he feels the bed shift and soon enough sees the herald himself looming over him. Somehow, this comes as a relief and that’s a scary thought.

Scratch seems already prepared, as he barely wastes any time in unzipping his pants and entering the writer.

The only difference between the other TAKEN and the doppelganger was that he adjusted himself, finds an angle he decides is good, and only then rams full force into the champion of light.

Alan moans out, subdued, but surely a moan. He hit him right in the correct spot. Scratch, then moves to take off the gag, and once done so he pulls back while Alan is catching air, and rams back in much to the same result.

“That’s right, keep it up, Wake. You know I can treat you right.” The Herald says, more as if to reassure himself.

Then, he begins to mercilessly pull in and roughly, but confidently crash into the same spot. And it hurts, but it's better now… better than the mindless attempts to only please themselves by the TAKEN. It’s not surprising Wake ejaculates again. His erection now pained, but warm again. Going limp as that occurs, when Scratch doesn’t move during this, Alan is almost happy that this is over. But it isn’t really over, is it?

Evidently not, as Scratch begins to move again, now to his own beat, this was faster and less calculated. Alan’s bundle of nerves gets brushed and poked, again and again, leaving him in another state of a pained hard-on, crying now. But once, Scratch comes himself, he pulls out completely and repositions himself atop of Wake to be face to face.

“Need a hand with this one?” Scratch teases, Alan is sure it’ll hurt less to be left blue-balled. But the Herald takes no comment, despite Wake’s exhausted glares and heavy panting.

Once the killer’s hand finds themselves onto the pained member, they move quickly to relieve the writer. With that climax, Wake is left lying, speechless and in a lot more pain than last night. He’s not sure when the other shadowy beings had left but quickly catches on that it’s only him and the Herald here. The herald who was nuzzling his neck, licking the forming sweat off his neck. Teeth grazing the skin, Alan panics, fearing he might start again. Especially now that he was so close to passing out.

Mr. Scratch, face to face with the champion, locks eyes and kisses his mouth and it’s only so much he can do not to bite the mirror.

“I’m so good for you, Wake. You should see it.” And then the vision of the room grows darker, prompting the creator of this desert to pass out. The last words he hears, before he does, however, will haunt him. “But you’ll always be mine, even if you don’t.”


End file.
